Not your type
by withered
Summary: "You're something." A boy, a girl, and a stab wound. There are better love stories out there, but this is theirs. [Crime family AU]
1. Chapter 1

**A/n:** For those not following me on Tumblr, this was originally posted as one of the entries to Roses by another name which I've taken down to edit and post as separate stories in case I ever feel inspired to expand them.

_This entry has been edited a little, but is ultimately the same_. This entry is also complete as it is, and any "crime families/gang" AUs I come up with next will be posted separately.

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Not your type  
(but I can make you sway)

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Rukia has no time for normal.

She's inherited a shady family empire upon her graduation from boarding school, and her stoic older brother pulls no punches about the reality of it. It's something she appreciates after so many years of being in the dark about how exactly the Kuchiki name stayed so prominent over the years.

The decision is made that she studies under a name that isn't Kuchiki, and she does everything in her power to lay low – to learn what she can about what she needs to in the dog eat dog world of finance, business and politics; something that _surprisingly enough _her fancypants All Girls Boarding School for Scheming Rich Girls _did not_ cover, but _all of which_ she desperately needs.

She has no time for normal things like making friends or falling in love.

Inevitably, both happen.

Rangiku is a pain in the ass, but she's Rukia's pain in the ass. And honestly, the rowdiness of the Rukongai apartment complex just off West campus was a definite culture shock to what she was used to, something her brother showed little sympathy for (the bastard). Yet somehow Rangiku kept a strange, almost refined control of the chaos in the building.

As for Nanao, she really is the only sane one besides Rukia herself, and what else was Rukia supposed to do when she found out that the other woman was in almost all her classes at the university anyway?

As for the love part, that's a bit more complicated because Rukia had relied almost entirely on her lack of sex appeal and her too-good-for-you nose-in-the-air act that her fancypants All Girls Boarding School for Scheming Rich Girls _did_ cover which would usually deter normal guys.

Unfortunately for her, Kurosaki Ichigo is not a normal guy.

The first time they meet is definitely no fairytale. Not by a longshot.

He doesn't pull up in some horse-drawn carriage, and she isn't decked out in some enchanted dress.

In fact, he was bleeding on the ground behind the Starbucks a block away from Rukongai. And she was wearing sweatpants that she wasn't sure were clean, a shirt that had several holes in it around the one armpit, yesterday's makeup, while holding an Americano she didn't want but _needed because mid-terms are coming _and_ Jesus, why does it feel like she didn't know anything after half a year _–

And her response to finding him there – looking valiantly like he wasn't in pain and holding his bleeding side with an equally bloody hand, was, "I thought I looked like hell."

She's actually quite charming when she wants to be; she gets it from her brother. (Seriously.)

To her credit, Bleeding Guy's reply isn't any better: "You're fucking loud, you know that?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware indoor voices were required in back alleys," she retorts.

He grumbles something in reply, and she backtracks on the bitchiness because _the dude is bleeding_, and asks, "Do you need help?"

He huffs through his nose, jaw is clenched, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she's not really in the mood to wait for him to settle on the probability of him dying here as opposed to accepting help from some strange girl he met behind a Starbucks, so she stoops down to his level and offers a hand. "No hospitals, I'm guessing?"

His eyes are amber, and they glint like a cat's, and she should run away right now because – _you shouldn't talk to strangers, least of all strangers you meet bleeding in alleys_. But she's already waving her offered hand impatiently and complaining, "Hurry up, my coffee's getting cold."

"Why are you helping me; I could be a serial killer for all you know."

"Maybe," she muses, "but what are the chances we're both serial killers?"

And that's the line that gets him because two minutes later, he has his arm over her shoulders and her arm around his waist supporting him as they hobble towards her apartment.

It being four in the afternoon, Rukongai is unusually quiet.

Everyone is still nursing hangovers from Rangiku's latest party which _coincidentally _coincided with Rukia visiting her brother in the city, and the aftereffects _just happened _to result in a quiet environment for her to study upon her return. (Rukia couldn't help but chuckle at Rangiku's incessant winks and nudges of, _"Get it?"_ when she told her of the initial plan, and lamenting how, _"You won't be there to see the fun part, but you'll thank me, you'll see."_)

The apartment is clean when they enter save for the state of her desk slash dining room. Rukia's been careful, though to keep it sparse of anything to give Bleeding Guy too much of an idea about who she is, even as she dumps him on the couch and goes to the kitchenette to grab the First Aid kit.

His hair is bright and warm like a halo of flame, the cords of his muscles defined and his chest broad – his shirt ripped and ruined enough that she can easily spot the tattoos that crisscross his skin between the blood and – "Don't worry, most of it isn't mine."

Her hands shake a little, but her fancypants All Girls Boarding School for Scheming Rich Girls were filled with people who talked a load of shit just to get a reaction. Maintaining a neutral expression, she asks, "Who the hell did you piss off?"

He bares his teeth, caught between a grimace and a grin. "You should see the other guy." He looked so weirdly proud that it's her turn to snort.

"You're such a cliché."

"And you." His gaze flickers briefly into hers, sharp and unnerving in its intensity, even as he trails, curious and amused, "You're something else."

She finds out a few hours after he leaves that Rangiku, half dead herself by her own doing, still knows everything that goes on in the building and – "I did not K.O everyone for you to get laid," the blonde scolds. "Not that I wouldn't, but I like to know in advance, you know; full disclosure, total honesty would be nice!"

"There's nothing to be honest about, I didn't get laid."

"Obviously," the busty woman waves off, "you're way too grouchy and confused. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she lies, and at least that is something she's good at, but Rangiku is annoyingly persistent.

"Then who was the guy I heard whispers about being here?"

Drying the coffee cups that they had used after she had cleaned up the stab wound that had grazed his rib, cutting through the tattoo of a storm to turn the watercolour ink bloody, Rukia sighs. "Why do I have the feeling you already know who it is?"

"Because I do," Rangiku declares. "But I want to know if _you _know who it is."

Rukia rolls her eyes. "I found him in an alley. He was hurt, why on earth would I know who he is?"

"So, you just invite strange bleeding men into your apartment?" she asks, more amused than anything before she laughs and declares, "I can't believe you took him in like a stray kitten."

"Well, that's definitely not accurate."

"Either way, trust me when I say, he doesn't need the help. I'm sure his men would have gotten to him eventually. Lord knows he'd ream their asses otherwise."

Now that gets Rukia's attention. "What?"

Her jaw hangs at the blatant shock at the admission. "So, you really don't know him?" At Rukia's silence, her companion declared, "You're so dense! Everyone knows him, Kurosaki, ring any bells?" Her blank look answered that question efficiently enough, and with a long-suffering sigh, Rangiku tries again, "How about Shiba?"

Rukia's eyes widen. "Like, the crime family? That Shiba?"

"The one and only," Rangiku confirms. "Word is that Ichigo's extending territory, making the old guys around here antsy, you know how it is."

She does, her family _is_ one of those_ old guys_, and Rukia bites back a curse. _Of course, this would be the kind of shit she gets involved with._

But she comforts herself. This _thing_ was nothing but an inconvenience. No one has to know. Hell, Kurosaki would've forgotten the whole thing by now.

Except, he doesn't.

Three days later, he shows up in her class.

Everyone notices, of course, because apparently people have been noticing him for ages and she'd been laying so low the only thing she'd been seeing were the words in her textbooks. Her oblivious nature, however accidental, concerns Nanao, "He's been looking at you."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Rukia demands; teeth gritted as she repeats the mantra of _study, study, study_ even as she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head.

"You've heard about him, then?"

"I have," she eventually admits somewhat begrudgingly.

While she'd intended to keep Kurosaki out of sight and out of mind, he was making it painfully difficult. Fortunately, Rukia wasn't left with only rumors to sustain her curiosity, and her decision to ignore him.

Though her brother had agreed that having her own security detail would be counterintuitive in her quest in being invisible while she completed her tertiary education, she knew there was at least one of his men watching her, and so she had gotten him to give her intel on one _Kurosaki Ichigo_.

Renji had delivered.

Everything from surveillance of his dodgy dealings, to fights he was involved in, to businesses that went under or rose to prominence under his control as his influence grew, Rukia felt, for an instant, at a loss of how shady her life actually _didn't look_ compared to his.

Renji, regardless, side-eyed her hard. _"You need to tell your brother." _

"_And what will that do? Make him pull me out of school?" _

"_No, but he should know. He could do something." _

"_Like what?" _

"…_I don't know_."

"What are you going to do?" Nanao asks for what feels like the third time in this hour alone.

Sighing, Rukia asks, brow arching sharply, "Can I do something about it?"

Her companion adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "If you do, I'd love to know. This is a lot more entertainment than I gave you credit for."

She snorts because Rukia _is_ the most boring person ever, honestly, she had been before she found out about her own family's past, present and future, and she's intent on being so now. "Whatever it is that he wants he won't get it from me."

"Is that so?"

Nanao coughs.

And, though Rukia felt like she was being drained of all the colour in her face and going blood red at the same time, she remained composed because she's Kuchiki Rukia, damn it. She did not survive heiress etiquette classes and her fancypants All Girls Boarding School for Scheming Rich Girls to be sent off kilter by _some boy_.

Tilting her head to take him in, one hand in the pocket of his pants and the other resting on the table right beside the textbook she was trying to absorb through osmosis, Kurosaki was a combination of suave and dangerous.

To his credit, he didn't look like some gang banger.

His bright orange hair was about the only thing that screamed delinquent, but the rest of him was all tanned, toned, lean muscle and chiselled jawline. He didn't walk around in baggy pants accented with chains; his jeans are tight enough around his thighs to be considered sinful, and none of his tattoos are even visible. Well, except for the ones on his torso, the outlines of the black bands she can just make out from the white shirt that stretches enticingly snug across his broad – her eyes widened – Oh my god, _no_.

"Kurosaki," she greets, neutrally, if not hastily.

"Rukia."

_I didn't tell him my name_. She's too invisible to know off hand; she isn't a Kuchiki here and the university has more than a thousand students in this part of the campus alone. _Why do you know my name?_

"Is there something you want?" she asks instead.

"Matter of fact, I do," he replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and clearly, he wants something – maybe he might even know…Hackles raised, she dryly continues, "Does it have something to do with you eavesdropping on my conversations, or do you just make it a habit to be nosy?"

"I like to know what goes on in my school."

"You think awfully big of yourself."

His shrug is nonchalant. "I know what I am, what I'm capable of, and what I want."

"I'm still waiting on what that has to do with me," Rukia remarks, her defensiveness simmering to a churning sort of annoyance as she casts aside her pencil and crosses her arms. She tilts her head just so in an almost mocking acquiescence of acknowledgement, but his smirk only widens.

"You'll see."

And that's what he leaves her with.

Beside her, Nanao exhales, "Jesus" and Rukia can't disagree because _what was that?_

She still doesn't tell her brother.

Even when Ichigo sits beside her in class, arm propped up on the back of the bench like that cheesy move guys did when they were at the movies except there's nothing really romantic about it – if the half-lidded gaze he casts around the room says anything at all it's that no one should come near them.

Their audience complies but they pay the price in whispers.

Rukia isn't having any of it. "Can you not?" she hisses.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

She can tell he wants her to say _yes_ so instead she retorts, "You're more annoying than anything." Unfortunately, that seems to amuse him even more.

At the end of the lecture, he takes her books from their shared desk and walks her to her next class, and even though she wants to fight about it, she forgets because they end up talking instead:

"The Republic is a load of crap," because he's good at distracting her.

She splutters, "Are you kidding me? It's like the greatest book on leadership ever written, it's still relevant hundreds of years after the fact."

"So is Shakespeare, and the majority of his work consists of dick jokes and sword fights, pun only partially intended."

And she forgets that she has no time for him and the inconvenience he brings because, without fail, she laughs. "Are you actually an idiot or do you have to work at it to convince people you are?"

He rolls his shoulders and smirks again, almost warm, always affectionate. "Depends if it makes you like me more or not."

And she doesn't know what to say to that, so she just _doesn't. _

It's a routine she unwittingly gets into, like having coffee with Nanao after their study sessions and sneaking in episodes of the latest K-drama during lunch breaks and talking shit between lectures. Or, day drinking in her pyjamas on her days off with Rangiku as she regales Rukia on her latest escapade and experimenting in the kitchen because they're hungry and bored.

Ichigo with his weird puns and love of Shakespeare and getting so easily ticked off by her to the point where the Big Bad Wolf on campus is pulling his tongue at her and teasing the hell of out her for kicks regardless of whose watching.

Ichigo with his weirdly gentlemanly-like habit of opening doors for her and walking her to class and carrying her books. And so, what if he has two noticeably large men following them – _him_ – at a distance or that when their attempts to irritate each other get physical, she never tries to touch him because _what if he got in another fight recently and I don't know, and its healing and –_

He notices, of course, he notices everything.

"Afraid I have cooties or something?"

"I'd be disinfecting myself constantly if that were the case," she retorts before sucking on the straw of her juice box.

She'd never had a juice box before she started university, before Ichigo. Kuchikis drank out of _glasses_, and Rukia certainly couldn't picture her brother drinking out of a box. Ichigo had taken too much pleasure in the mere idea that he was getting to introduce her to something new – that he was _popping her juice box cherry_.

Swinging her legs from her perch on the railing of the Engineers' Building, the tallest building on campus because – "_I like high places." – He huffed. "I hope you aren't thinking of jumping." – She snorted. "If I wanted to kill myself I'd choose something a bit more graceful than ending up like Humpty Dumpty on the sidewalk. Besides, the view's amazing." – "And you wanted to share it with me? I'm honoured," he teased, and she almost walked all the way back down just to spite him, but she couldn't because she actually _really did _want him to see her favourite place._

"Then why is it," he begins, his hands branded on the railing beside her thighs, abdomen pressed against her knees, "you won't touch me?"

Slowly she detached her lips from the straw, making a show of blinking at him innocently before reaching over to flick his forehead with her index finger. "Satisfied?"

"Not even a little," he murmurs, nudging his forehead a little against hers until they're practically breathing each other in, lips just barely brushing as he coaxes, "Tell me."

"What's there to tell?" she challenges, her eyelashes practically tangling with his.

"I'm not the only with secrets."

"You don't have secrets," she reminds to mock, "Everyone knows what you are and what you're capable of."

They're close enough that she can feel the way his jaw clenches, his breath harsh against her lips even as he withdraws, "So that has something to do with why you won't touch me?"

Rukia tilts her head enough for their noses to skim, forehead to forehead she poses, "What if I did touch you…"

"And?"

"And you're hurt," she continues, "like the first day we met. What if I jokingly punch you, and not realize that you broke a rib or something during a fight? What if I touch you, and I hurt you?"

She expects him to laugh _as if this girl could possibly hurt someone who ran a gang_, but he looks almost comically shocked, eyes wide before they narrow, intense and focused and piercing enough that Rukia can feel her blood pressure shoot up, and she's demanding against the beating of her heart in her ears, "What?"

"You don't want to hurt me."

"Didn't I just say that?" she asks, rolling her eyes, mentally chanting _play it off, play it off, play it off –_

"Rukia," he exhales, and her name is like a caress on his tongue, "you really are something."

Snorting unconvincingly, she shoves him a little but does it too quickly that she teeters dangerously on the edge. Fortunately, his reflexes are faster than hers, and he brings his arms around her, tucking her head beneath his chin.

His next words ruffle through her hair with the breeze, "I don't want to hurt you either."

And that's the day and the conversation she realizes that she's lost the plot on this entirely.

But whatever it is – _was_ – it ends. Not in the obvious way, he still sits with her, carries her books, teases her relentlessly, but now-now there's a distance. They don't go back to the Engineers' Building.

"Shimizu-san."

Rukia looks up from her lunch, her conversation with Nanao about a group project temporarily put on hold at the sound of her fake last name, and the sight of Inoue Orihime.

"Oh, hello Inoue-san," she greets, "may I help you?"

They don't really know each other outside of the one class they share – the one with Ichigo. Though they have worked together once or twice throughout the year for presentations, Rukia can't claim to know Inoue any more than she would any classmate.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"About what?" Rukia asks, genuinely confused. They have a presentation in two weeks' time, did Inoue mess up somehow because there was still time to fix it –

"About you and Kurosaki-kun," she says, and Rukia and Nanao must have looked pretty comical, blinking in unison as Rukia says lamely, "I'm sorry?"

Inoue nods in confirmation. "Yes, I'm sorry you broke up."

Nanao makes a sound of disbelief, but Inoue isn't done, "We dated in high school you know, briefly, and we were just kids then and didn't know what we were doing. And I know it's only been a few days, but I hope you don't mind if we give it another try?"

What. _What. What?_

"Huh?"

The other woman makes to bow. "Of course, we don't need your permission, but I thought it would be polite to at least let you know, ne?"

Nanao's trying so very hard not to start making dying whale noises. She might actually be dying. And Rukia can't blame her because her blood pressure spikes for an entirely different reason to when she's around her orange haired idiot.

Luckily Inoue isn't waiting for a reply, and leaves immediately after, probably to that same class they both shared with him. Fuck.

"_Well_."

"Don't say anything," Rukia orders slowly, rubbing her forehead, her lunch forgotten on her lap. "I'm still trying to process."

What was that '_we'_ Inoue had used? If Ichigo really was getting back together with his ex, why was he still spending so much with her? When did he even have the time to –

"_So,_" Nanao begins, dragging the word out with all the innuendo that could possibly be layered in a two-letter word, "you and Kurosaki, hm?"

"No!" _It doesn't matter, I shouldn't care._ "Of course not!"

"_Sure_."

"Well apparently not," Rukia retorts, "we're hypothetically broken up and his ex-girlfriend is getting in there."

Humming, Nanao wiggles her brows. "You wanna go claim your man?"

"Shut up."

But yeah, she kind of wants to because love was an inconvenience that affected proper brain function because _she's actually anxious about this, what the fuck. _

During the lecture, Rukia can feel Inoue looking at them, biding her time for the class to end so she can –_god, why is she so pissed it isn't like they're a thing –_

Ichigo presses his hand against her thigh to stop her leg from nervously jigging, under his breath he tells her to stop.

"I can't," she hisses back.

"Why the hell not?"

"I'm irritated," she blurts instead of the lie she prepared when she inevitably messed up and let him know that Inoue had bothered her _with something so stupid, oh my god, what have I become?_

Asking above the hum of students getting up to leave around them, he considers her, "Do you wanna to talk about it?"

She can see Inoue moving in for the kill out of the corner of her eye, and with a strained exhale and a message to whatever gods were listening to make this quick, she answers, "You'll see in a second."

But he doesn't because instead he gets distracted by a message on his phone. Inoue's standing right there – and he's only looking at Rukia. "I promise this isn't just a convenient cope out, but can you tell me later?"

"What?"

"Something came up and I need to go," he says and there's something that's shifted, it's that clench in his jaw and the furrow between his brows, and he's withdrawing – instinctively, she doesn't like what that means.

On top of that, the warmth of him by her side and the weight of his hand are gone so fast she's left cold. "What's happening?"

He, honest to god, leans in – with Inoue _still standing there _– and kisses her nose in a tease. "Don't worry, it'll be quick. We'll talk later, I promise."

Rukia forgets about Inoue entirely then because she's following Ichigo out of the lecture hall. "Wait, what? I'm seeing you later?"

"Yeah, don't worry I'll text you," he says, nodding at the two men that followed him about to go ahead, and there's a frantic voice in the back of Rukia's head telling her that something is going down, something dangerous and Ichigo could –

She doesn't realize that he has his lips pressed against hers until she's engulfed by him, his tall frame acting as a buffer between her and the people around them. He isn't even touching her, not really, but Rukia can feel the heat of him sinking into her pores, his cologne surrounding her like a cloud. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are butterscotch yellow and his mouth curls in a smile so soft she aches.

"I'll be back, I promise."

The odds of him keeping it aren't good.

It's two minutes to two and he still hasn't shown up. Hasn't even texted her. Her phone has been fully charged for hours, and she's been pacing the length of her small apartment for about the same time. She'd studied, revised and covered an entire wall in course material, telling herself that she wasn't _waiting_, she was _studying_.

When her studying is interrupted by a knock on her door, she ignores it, glancing at her phone instead. Not even Nanao has tried to distract her with memes, though Rangiku has been checking on her periodically since she'd gotten home so when the knock on the door becomes more insistent, she calls out, "I'm busy Rangiku."

"But I brought food."

That's not Rangiku.

Throwing open the door, Ichigo is standing there filling the frame – a box of pizza in hand and a bluish bruise on his jawline. "What the hell happened to you?" she demands, gaze zeroing in on his chest, looking for the telltale crimson stain that she's become accustomed to seeing sticking his shirts to his skin. Whetheit'sts his blood or someone else's always remains to be seen.

"The line at Donatello's was brutal."

"Don't talk shit," she snaps. She can't see anything wrong with him, but she can't stop the hysteria from edging her voice. "What happened, it's almost midnight – you said –"

"It's two, actually, but I'm sure you knew that," he interrupts, sliding the box of pizza onto the coffee table and sitting onto the couch gingerly. "Were you waiting for me?"

"You said you'd text," she defends, before getting right back on the topic at hand because if he thought for one second, she would forget –

"I'm part of a gang," Ichigo reminds. "This," he gestures, "tends to happen."

"Oh my god," she exhales, not for the first time wishing it didn't have to be like this – she didn't, or he didn't, and they could just be two dumb kids being whatever it is they are without – "Are you hurt anywhere else? Bleeding maybe?"

"Nah, I'm starving though." Popping open the box, he adds, "I wasn't in the mood to pick out the pineapples this time, hope you don't mind."

Seriously? Was this her life now?

"You give me anxiety," she declares, practically collapsing beside him.

"Were you worried?"

"Don't be a jerk, of course, I was." Rukia can practically feel him smiling, and she points at him with her eyes closed. "You better be happy because that pizza is amazing and not because you're taking pleasure in giving me grey hairs."

"That, and I won."

She huffs out another breath and they spend a few minutes in silence, Rukia on the cusp of sleep as she listens to Ichigo move about her apartment before she feels a considerable weight on her lap. Peeking down between her lashes, she warns, "I swear to god, if you put the head of the person you beat on my lap, I will stab you."

"It's my head."

"Knew it felt pretty empty," she notes to his snicker.

"Careful, I'm starting to think you want to hurt my feelings."

Again, Rukia huffs, venturing to ask, "Are you going to tell me what happened now?"

"Work," is his simple, complicated reply. "It rarely happens that I get involved with physical stuff, but I wanted to do it myself."

"Why?"

"It was important, and I wanted to see it through in person."

"Cryptic," she declares with a roll of her yes.

"Hey," he makes an attempt at a protest, even if he sounds so relaxed that he's practically dozing on her lap, "I think your brother liked how dedicated I was to getting it done."

Rukia jostles him in surprise. "What?"

He shrugs like he didn't just flip her world around. "Your family is old and traditional as fuck, I figured if you had to date someone from another crime family, the least I could do was be polite about it."

She doesn't know if the scandalized huff is for the fact Ichigo had apparently known all along who she was, or because he'd been so presumptuous. Rukia decides it's the latter. "Who said I wanted to date you?"

"Fine," Ichigo sighs like he's greatly aggrieved, "_court you, _then."

Making an exaggerated expression of disgust, she declares, "Ew."

He snorts in reply before bringing their mouths together. The angle is awful, but his lips brush against hers like he means it – nothing fleeting or furtive about it as he rights his position so that he's sitting just to the side of her, palm cradling her face, thumbing at the sensitive skin below her ear; forehead against hers.

Her hand is clutching at his shirt, fisting the material. Beneath her knuckles, she feels his heart stumble.

Between their exchange of breaths, lips brushing in a tease of another kiss, he murmurs, "You deserve a city, and I wanted to be the one to give it to you" to which she whispers back, the anxious lick of her lips sending him chasing after to follow until they finally part enough for her to ask, "Why, why me?"

"Because," he says, eyes golden like the sun, smile soft enough to melt, "You're something, Kuchiki Rukia."

* * *

**A/n: ***singing* I'm trash trash ichiruki trash. Honestly tough guy Ichigo with a soft center is the only Ichigo I recognize.


	2. Chapter 2

.

Not your type

(but I can make you sway)

.

It's not stalkerish, he tells himself as he proceeds to be stalkerish. It isn't like he's following her or anything – he had people for that – not that he sent anyone – he isn't an idiot. He knows her brother is keeping an eye on her, Ichigo would.

Kuchiki Rukia was the only daughter of one of the oldest crime families in Japan, and no matter how much of a frigid asshole Byakuya is, he's notoriously overprotective of her if the measures he took was any indication. Careful to keep her name out of the books, and erasing any mention of her within the family to secure her safety; most people didn't even know she existed.

It was those kinds of tactics that were a double-edged sword for the Kuchiki heirs.

Byakuya's actions, well-intentioned as they are, held no question as to how important his only sister was to him; any failure on his part to protect her would be devastating for him.

As for Rukia, she knew nothing of her life on the other side of the law, at least not until a few years ago, from what Ichigo could gather. Regardless, of her minimal involvement thus far in the crime family chessboard, a bargaining chip was a bargaining chip, and Ichigo would find use of her.

It's why Ichigo, upon accidentally meeting her behind a Starbucks two months ago, resolved to find out everything about her.

Byakuya ran the family business with an iron fist in a silk glove, he rarely ever resorted to violence, preferring hostile takeovers and corporate espionage to get what he wanted; sophistication was in his DNA, and every action he ordered was done with intention – each move calculated, but seemingly insignificant to his opponents. To have the upper hand on him in any way would be advantageous for Ichigo's own plans to extend the influence of the Shiba family, and to her credit, Rukia doesn't make it easy for him.

She'd successfully hidden right under his nose for almost three years, after all.

Predictably, she changed her last name in order to study incognito. She lived off campus in a nondescript apartment block; taking seemingly random classes at the university that were a blend of finance, business, political science and international diplomacy sprinkled in with electives of literature and language courses in English, Mandarin and Korean. She drifted in and out of lecture halls like a ghost; being careful to do well enough to pass with honours, but not well enough to be of interest to any of the professors.

Rukia was polite and unassuming; her persona perfectly crafted to be forgettable.

Not that she is, really.

His interest in her after finding out her identity was done with all the subtly of a star falling out of the sky.

Uryuu had literally facepalmed a desk when he found out, but it certainly got her attention which was exactly what Ichigo intended.

The problem with a girl like Kuchiki Rukia though, was that she could smell bullshit a mile away, and just like her brother, she was cautious and wary by nature. Getting through that barrier required more from him than he thought especially as he found himself invested in her in more ways than he planned, though had been careful not to think about.

Until:

"Who's that?" Yuzu asks.

His little sister liked to drop by to make sure he was taking care of himself. Mostly by taking over his couch and leaning in close to get a better look at his laptop screen. Usually, this would be followed by commentary on his latest targets or the progress of recent family business. This time though, that isn't what she's referring to.

While the screen was taken up mostly be a report he needed to look over, a merger proposal by a gang he had shaken up a few weeks earlier, Yuzu's attention is on a smaller window overlapping that is a rare picture he found of Rukia at her boarding school.

Byakuya had managed to delete most of her online presence as Kuchiki Rukia which was why this one was so surprising.

Not only that Ichigo had found it, but that she looked so different in it, he'd tease her about the haircut if it didn't completely blow the fact that he knew who she was. Still, looking at it alone was enough to amuse him while sifting through the Karakura Seven's legal bullshit. He almost missed being one of his father's enforcers. Almost.

Impatiently, Yuzu prods, "Ichi-nii."

"Nn?"

"Who is that?" she asks again, pouting at being ignored.

Passing a glance at Rukia smiling at him as he finishes another paragraph, he replies, "Someone important."

To that, her consideration is done in silence, before, "Ano, important like family business-important or girlfriend-important?"

The reply comes easily and without much thought, "Both", and that's how quickly he realizes he's fucked up.

Because not only is Yuzu squealing and launching into a barrage of questions like, "Who is she? Where did you guys meet? How long have you been together? Is she nice? Are her eyes really that colour? Does she have any siblings? Do you know if she likes animals? What does she like to eat? When are we having her over? Ichi-nii, tell me everything!" She's also already got her cell-phone in hand with Karin on one end and their dad on another, and Ichigo's just sitting there like an idiot thinking, _why the hell did I say that?_

Yes, Rukia is a person of interest; a liability to her family until she's properly in the fold, and thus an asset to Ichigo's schemes. But –

His phone buzzes with a photo from the woman herself, though nothing as arbitrary as a selfie, just a shot of a takeaway coffee cup, the top pulled off to show the foam art made to look like a strawberry, followed by a cheeky caption that teases _I like_ _your replacement better than you. _

And despite the near maddening buzzing of his brain at her name alone, his mind goes quiet.

He isn't just gathering information to use. He…he _likes _her.

Ichigo can admit he liked her almost immediately when he met her; she took no shit and was seemingly permanently unimpressed with him. But in the same breath, she cared so much he feels his smirks losing their sharpness in her presence, softening in increments as she fusses and soothes and yells at him for being an idiot and –

Beyond what she could represent and bring, Rukia – she-she makes him smile.

All that it means, and all the connotations attached to it, seem less like an epiphany of a lightning bolt to the head, and more like the clouds clearing and the sun coming out; gentle and illuminating.

It warms him in ways he doesn't understand, but with every touch after platonic, accidental or otherwise, the darkest corners of his mind begin to bloom, even though they wither right after at the realization – "Why is it you won't touch me?"

Releasing her lips around the straw of her juice box, tongue red from the cherry colourant, she gets _so fucking close to his face that he could count every silverish glint shining like a piece of glass in the ocean of her eyes_ before he's startled by the flick of her finger against his forehead. "Satisfied?"

"Not even a little." Nudging her with his nose, their foreheads brushing past one another in some weird forehead bump-Eskimo kiss, he softly entreats, "Tell me."

"What's there to tell?" she challenges, voice low to match his, breath sweet against his lips.

"I'm not the only with secrets."

"You don't have secrets," she retorts, mocking him with his own words, "Everyone knows what you are and what you're capable of."

He wants to recoil – an unnecessary feeling of betrayal seeping into his bloodstream, though he knows it has no place. Ichigo _is_ dangerous. He's in a crime family for god's sake. And Rukia, while she may be in one as well, she doesn't do what he does.

She's a smart girl.

She should be scared of him.

Their families weren't at war with one another, but the situation couldn't exactly be termed as friendly. His own interference in her life and the danger he was likely putting her in by interacting with her at all, is proof that she had every right to not let him in – to not touch him – to not let him in.

Before his defences can tighten him up and turn him cold, her nose brushes against his in a tease, and she looks up at him with blueblueblue eyes, and asks, "What if I did touch you…"

"And?" he prods.

"And you're hurt," she continues, half in a rush on the breath she exhales. "Like the first day we met. What if I jokingly punch you, and not realize that you broke a rib or something during a fight? What if I touch you, and I hurt you?"

_Un-fucking-believable._

Ichigo searches her expression – looking for something-anything to give her away – unravel her lie, hint at her agenda, brush past an angle she's working – but he can't – _he can't find any. _

Instead, she only looks uncomfortable; an embarrassed flush rising from her chest, up her neck and to her cheeks and ears, even as she demands defensively, "What?"

She cares about him too.

"You don't want to hurt me," he says, and his voice is quietly awed and it's ridiculous – this whole thing is –

"Didn't I just say that?" she asks, rolling her eyes, and still pretending that she doesn't feel whatever he feels. That Rukia, headstrong and furious could ever – _would ever._

"Rukia," he exhales, the back of his throat tickling with a strange urge to laugh because _how did I find someone like you?_ "You really are something."

Snorting unconvincingly, and still bashful of her own emotions, she pushes him gently away, only to teeter dangerously on the edge of the railing she was sitting on. His urge to hold her close is answered, and with the smell of sunshine and her shampoo in his nose, he tells her, "I don't want to hurt you either."

Everything falls into line after that.

A car picks him up after he and Rukia separated at Rukongai with Ichigo waving down his men to let him go alone.

For now, Byakuya's men aren't there to intimidate him, only bring him in, though a redhead glares at him, hand poised over where his gun in warning. Ichigo's polite enough not to snort out loud.

Despite the traditionalism held dear to the old families, Byakuya's home is surprisingly modern; the only thing Ichigo notices is the koi pond and Japanese garden just outside Byakuya's personal office where Ichigo waits for almost twenty minutes before he is ordered to come in – like he's some disobedient school boy that needed a scolding from his headmaster.

"Kurosaki."

"Byakuya," he returns, lip curling in a smirk. Just like his sister, the man is irked with the familiarity. Unlike Rukia, there's no surprise that colours his expression. Byakuya knows exactly what Ichigo's done.

"Renji," the man says instead, "leave us." The office clears out, and for a moment they size each other up, until, Byakuya speaks again, "You know why you're here, Kurosaki."

"I do."

"You've been spending time with my sister, and I assume it wasn't just for the company."

"You assume correctly," Ichigo acknowledges, thankful that he hadn't tried to compromise by bringing at least some of his men in with to attend this impromptu meeting. Kaien could be a little shit, and he really didn't need to give Byakuya any wrong ideas about what Ichigo's been doing around Rukia, or with her, for that matter.

"So," Byakuya says, careful to keep the sigh out of his voice, "what is it that you want, Kurosaki?"

"I'm sure you have an idea or two."

"Territory."

Ichigo makes a not bad face, and if Byakuya's expression goes anymore severe it'll get stuck that way. Though, Ichigo wouldn't be surprised if it already is. Still, the other man is quiet for a moment, mentally cataloguing which he'd be willing to part with, until he surprises Ichigo by ordering, "Name it."

His brows are raised. "Any of them?"

"So long as you stay away from my sister; any of them will do," Byakuya claims, and there's a dangerous glint, like a glacier collapsing in a rush of ice water, as he warns, "Though, I can't promise you'll have it for long."

Ichigo had been right. Rukia means a lot to him. _Can't say I don't understand that_ he thinks, pretending to consider the offer, before, "I have a question first: What does Rukia get?"

If Byakuya is displeased by how easily Ichigo says her name, he didn't show it. "If you want her territories, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. We aren't running the family business as two entities."

"So, she's being cut out?" It isn't exactly a surprise, Yuzu and Karin were more concerned with the business side of it, making the family look as legitimate on paper as they are on the streets of Japan. Still. Ichigo didn't expect it with the range of Rukia's studies, or her own intelligence and deft at manipulating others. It's a waste of potential, he thinks.

Something Byakuya is surprisingly forthcoming to agree with when he claims, "She'll be running with me, not separately."

"What?"

"I'm sure you're aware how things have changed for the old families," the other man says, leaning back in his chair. "We have a few undesirables amongst us."

"Aizen still fighting for his presumed place on the throne?" Ichigo poses, and to his credit, constipated ice sculpture or not, Byakuya echoes his sarcasm, "Precisely."

After another moment's contemplation, he continues, "I'm sure you've noticed the amount of security around my sister, and further to that, the amount of trust I have in her considering you've managed to get as close as you have." Another pause. "Rukia is all I have left in this world in terms of true family, in terms of people I trust completely, of people I'd kill for without question. And though I know she would never knowingly betray me, Aizen has been known to twist even the most unshakeable of people, inspire loyalty where it is undeserved. I will not risk making an enemy out of my only sister."

"So, you want to solidify your place as the Head so when Rukia is ready, you'll run your empire together as a unit," Ichigo muses aloud.

"Aizen can't divide and conquer if there is no divide."

"Fair." The Shiba family was of the same mind, at least now, letting Ichigo take the lead following his father's decision to retire, with his cousins, Kukaku and Uryuu, working together jointly over the Shiba-Ishida alliance.

"So, if you're hoping to get Rukia's share of the empire, she doesn't have any because what is mine is hers."

"And if I wanted all that is yours?" Ichigo continues to prod.

"Failure to establish control is the fastest way to lose it," Byakuya reminds, perfectly deadpan despite the way Ichigo knows he wants to sneer at his supposed arrogance. "How would you do it in multiple places at once, Kurosaki?"

"With her by my side." When the man's expression hardens, eyes narrowing in a glare, Ichigo continues smoothly, "I want Aizen's territory."

"That isn't mine to give."

"But it is mine to take."

Byakuya cocks his head, the same inquiring look that Rukia has, a single brow raising just enough to brush his hairline as he observes, "You want my help."

"I do."

"Why not just claim a territory I can give you?"

"Because" Ichigo begins. "I do want Rukia by my side, and if that means giving her a city, then that's what I'll do."

The silence stretches, and then, Byakuya affirms, "You want a merger."

"It would give the Shiba more territory and you would have a stronger force on your side when inevitably, Aizen worms his way into the other crime families and makes a play for one of yours. We'd all win."

"And the distribution of men within the territories?"

"Spread evenly throughout the city," Ichigo smirks. "We'd even be able to give everyone proper holidays off."

Byakuya's exhale sounded like a snort before he says, "A merger would be beneficial, but how much of it would hinge on bartering my sister to you?"

"None of it. I'm already hers." At that Byakuya finally deigns to show some semblance of surprise, making Ichigo smirk. "What she'll do with me is up to her."

Ichigo hadn't underestimated the work it would take to rip one of Aizen's territories away from him, and even with the extra men, collaborating with someone who was just as much of an alpha was new for him, and it certainly put him on edge given the level of his experience compared to Byakuya's.

Still, the work was almost done, and all that was left was the execution which they had both agreed would amount to chipping away at Aizen's territory of Hueco Mundo until they reached the epicentre. A turf war was out of the question, and while Ichigo could do waiting games and using more subtle tactics, it made him antsy, and it showed despite himself.

"You're grumpier than usual lately."

"You're as rude always," he retorts, not bothering to turn around until the smell of food roused his stomach, reminding him that _Yuzu fed you just before she left – two weeks ago._

Rukia snorts. "Imagine that." Lifting his brows in curious surprise, Rukia irrelevantly informs, with a pizza box in her lap, "I bought food."

Already reaching into it after she slid it open, he wrinkles his nose, eyeing the slice he was able to snag. "Pineapples, really?"

"Beggars can't be choosers," she declares around the mouthful she took.

"You know I hate them," he complains, picking them off and flicking them at the open box, though Rukia immediately pilfers them for herself.

"Who said I bought this pizza for you?" she asks, snickering. "You're the rude one who just invited himself to it."

"Rukia," he begins on the heels of a dramatic sigh, "moon of my life, my sun and stars, thank you for providing me with sustenance in my time of mock exams, you're an angel and I adore you."

With a hum of amusement, it's her turn to lift her brows. "That's twenty sarcasm points, Khal, I approve."

"I aim to please."

"Though, I am going to have to deduct points for the corn."

"I can do a scene from Romeo and Juliet if it pleases the lady." She makes a 'go on' hand motion and clearing his throat, he recites, "'Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.'"

Never one to give him his dues, she rolls her eyes. "It's two in the afternoon, genius."

Dusting his hands clean of crumbs, he begins anew, "My dear love." He picked her ankles up off the table that separated them, dropping her feet on his lap instead, and wrapping a hand around her ankles securely, "the purchase is made, the fruits are to ensue; the profit's yet to come 'tween me and you'."

"Interesting choice," she hums, "that's from Othello, isn't it?"

"A girl who knows her Shakespeare? Rukia, you're out for my heart," he warns, much too late after the fact, and she sighs dramatically in return before winking.

"Yeah, nothing more romantic than a boy using Shakespeare to talk about sex."

And Ichigo has to fight the urge to smirk wider because damn it, this girl really does have him.

"I could do a sonnet," he proposes, wiggling his brows.

"I have no doubt that you could," she declares in the face of his absurdity, laughing as he cleared his throat again.

"'My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun –'"

"Oh," Rukia interjects, "that's because you're the ginger one."

He deadpans, "You are not allowed to remix Shakespeare."

"Then you can't use him to disturb my ladylike sensibilities," she informs, preening in demonstration, and his cheeks really were starting to hurt a little from the effort of not smiling at her like an idiot.

Instead, he feigns surprise. "Me? Never! Do you even know the rest of the sonnet?"

"Oh yeah," she answers with a solemn nod, a rebellious strand of black hair falling between her eyes as she meets his gaze mischievously, "more sex. Nice, Ichigo, I know what you're deprived of."

He wiggles his brows, drinking in the sound of her laughter and the brightness of her eyes before he echoes, "You have no idea." Right around the time his phone buzzes in his pocket and a glance informs _its time_, does he regret to say, "I have to go."

At that, Rukia pouts at him. "So, now I'm done feeding you, you've gone to take care of the other problem?"

"With who?" He snorts. "I'm still trying to get you to touch me on your own." Sliding her feet off his lap and standing, he grabs his jacket before leaning over to drape it over her shoulders. He allowed his expression to soften just a bit as he looked down at her, and then resting his hands against the armrests of her chair, Ichigo informs, "I won't be back in time for you to steal my jacket like you usually do, so I'm gonna skip that part and just let you have it. It's more efficient, and you won't be at risk of pneumonia."

"I'm warm enough," she argues, and looks decidedly more petulant, though the blush on her cheeks is a remarkable distraction.

"Well, now you are."

Smiling deceptively sweet at him, she says through white teeth, "Get out of here."

He leans further until their foreheads touch and he's murmuring, "'Parting is such sweet sorrow'."

"I wouldn't know," she trails in abject disappointment, "you haven't left yet."

"You're such a little shit," he informs, though saying it does nothing to dissipate his grin. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"I look forward to it." Ichigo shakes his head with a chuckle and takes exactly three steps before she adds, "Try not to break anything this time, how you expect me to hold your hand when it's broken is beyond me."

His lip curls as he thinks _you're something else, Rukia._

Unfortunately, Ichigo can't keep that particular promise, at least not the third time he gets called away almost a month later.

He'd blame it on them making out on her couch hours earlier, and Ichigo's very violent annoyance at having been pulled from the bed as a result, but he knows better.

They always tell you never to go into a job distracted, but how the hell was he not supposed to when he gets called in while they were asleep, he doesn't know. Fortunately, they were actually sleeping and not…doing other things…Jesus, Byakuya would probably bust a cap in him and leave him in a ditch. Though Ichigo wouldn't put it past the frosty bastard to cockblock him on purpose.

In any case, most girls would be at their boyfriends' side, doting and devoted to their every need, when they found out they were injured. Rukia is not most girlfriends and – _wait, did I even ask her to be my girlfriend? Did courting automatically make that a thing or…? Shit, I knew I'd be bad at this_.

"You're pissed at me."

"No," she says, in a tone that suggested otherwise.

"Then why are you standing so far away?"

"Because you're in a hospital bed and whatever you have might be contagious."

"I broke a hand," he reminds with a furrowed brow.

"I meant the stupidity." When he can only scowl in displeasure, Rukia exhales; her expression carefully calm even as she set her eyes on him in a look that could freeze his sorry ass to the wall.

And he gulps because, damn it, she may be all of five feet, but she has _all his numbers_, and the family business – well, the family business suits her. That his girl has obviously mastered Looks Could Kill, and Other Dead Stares That Make People Feel Insignificant, does not help matters at all.

"What the hell happened to you? Do I even want to know? You were gone for nine days without saying anything, and then I get a call that you're here – _in the hospital_."

Well, shit. She's really pissed now.

"Things got crazy with the job and –"

"And you couldn't even call me? Shoot me a text? Nine days, Ichigo." She's pacing now. "You could have been dead for all I know! Would I have even known if something like that happened? Or would I just be around waiting for the next year until I realized hmm, maybe that asshole isn't coming back? And all that time, there I was thinking you were full of shit when in actuality – you'd be dead!"

"Now hold on a second," he says, and it's stupid to be grinning, he knows it is, but, "You'd wait a whole year before moving on?"

Despite the scowl, the flush on her cheeks doesn't fade and she scoffs. "You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot."

"That's debatable." The slight tug at the corner of her lips is sign enough of her defeat, and it seems the wider his grin got, the more embarrassed she got, to the point where she's avoiding his eyes and talking to the wall, "I'm glad you aren't dead."

"I'm sorry," he teases, "I can't hear you, gunshots are murder on your hearing."

Turning to him resolutely, an expression that is equal parts sweetly bashful and annoyed gracing her features, she repeats a little louder, "I'm glad you aren't dead, Kurosaki."

He hisses in disappointment. "I'm not hearing you, Rukia."

She takes a step closer, rolling her eyes as she does so. "Kurosaki -"

"No, no, still too far," Ichigo dismisses, "Come on, Rukia, are you scared of the big bad gang banger, Kuchiki?"

That seems to do the trick because she's at his throat now – literally – with a fistful of the hospital gown bunched under his chin. "I will kick your ass if you ever do that to me again."

"The bone breaking or the hospital visits? Because I can't guarantee either."

"Call me," she entreats voice surprisingly soft. "I don't care if you just want to tell me what you had for lunch. Just…do it, okay?"

"Got it," he agrees, his free-uninjured arm snaking around her waist and pulling her up on the bed to sit with him. "I actually haven't eaten anything. Hospital food is crap."

Rolling her eyes, Rukia lets go of his gown. "There's a gift basket right there."

"It's from Inoue," he points out, "God knows why she keeps sending me shit, or who even told her where I was; but if you wanted me to die, I'd thought you'd be kinder."

"Well, far be it for me to step on your ex's toes."

At that, he groans. "Can't believe she's still talking shit. We didn't even date for that long, she drove me insane; possessive and jealous as hell for no reason, she even accused me of cheating on her with my sister – _my sister_." Karin had immediately retaliated with a message that Ichigo would've had framed and sent to Inoue to keep as a memento if it were up to him. Of course, Yuzu had talked him out of that. Speaking of, "Yuzu probably told her where I am." Gaze flickering down to hers, he realizes that Rukia may have been unnecessary bothered by his too-short-to-call-it-a-relationship and begins with furrowed brows, "Is she bothering you because I could -"

"'Could' nothing, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. I just wanted to find out what the extent of Inoue's claim on you was," Rukia informs smartly, still managing to look superior even as she sits comfortably on his lap.

"'Claim on me'?" he repeats, brows raised and expression incredulous.

"Ichigo," she begins slowly, smoothing out the hospital gown she had crumpled at his neck before meeting his eyes, matching smirk to his in place. "I may have an older brother, but I'm the youngest child; I don't do sharing."

"So, I guess getting you your own city was a good call then, huh?"

"Well, it wasn't the wrong one."

"Duly noted."

Sounding somewhat sympathetic and amused, she informs him, "If you thought I'd be less possessive and jealous of a girlfriend than Inoue, you have another thing coming."

"Oh, you're my girlfriend. That's a relief."

"What?" Rukia raises a brow. "Do you always offer cities to every girl you sometimes make out and share a bed with?"

"Excuse me; I intend to make that arrangement permanent."

"You and what army?" she challenges.

He hitches her closer until she's practically on his chest, noses brushing and mischievous grin just inches away from her suddenly breathless lips. "Who needs an army when I've got the queen right here?"

* * *

**A/n:** Follow me on **everything-withered on tumblr** and **withered on AO3** for extra content and updates on the updates.


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